The First Cut Is The Deepest
by Kathryn Adkins
Summary: After the series. Spike and Angel leave Andrew with the knowledge that Spike isn't gone. Now that Buffy knows, she's trying to figure out what she should do. Buffy's POV with a bit of conversation with Andrew.


When it comes to gossip, Andrew is worse than a gaggle of grannies at the beauty parlor on a Saturday morning. Maybe Angel didn't know that, but Spike had spent enough time with him to know that he wasn't anyone's first choice for confidant. Ever. Why he'd decided that now was a good time to trust him with classified information is beyond me. Unless he wanted me to know. Or, at least his subconscious did.

Call. Don't call. Call. Don't call.

That thing with the Immortal? Let me make this absolutely clear: unconsummated. Good Lord, unkissed. Un... anything. Unhappy. Uninteresting. Let's just say he was a cold body that looked good on my arm. A wealthy cold body. And, no. I don't feel like a shallow, awful person for saying that. Please. Like he didn't have a hidden agenda of his own. I just hadn't figured it out until Andrew blurted out the whole Angel and Spike were in Italy and, yes, Spike was as undead and as devastatingly sexy as ever. I shouldn't have been shocked. He did promise that he'd never leave me. And Spike keeps his promises.

Write. Don't write. Write. Don't write.

Piece of paper number twelve. No. Not the twelfth page of a letter to my undead beloved. It was the twelfth time I tried to get my thoughts lined up and on one page. It so wasn't working. Kicking him? That would have worked. Throwing something pointy at him and coming close enough to his stony heart to give him a fright but not dust him? Even better. This writing crap that he liked to do so much? Highly overrated. And just not working for me.

I decided to rummage through Andrew's CD collection. He was always putting together these big montages of music. He had his angsty CD. Lots of Counting Crows, The Red House Painters, Sarah MacLachlan. He had one that was all digital techno-pop. Kraftwerks, Sigue Sigue Sputnik. Stuff I couldn't even pronounce. What was this? _Spuffy Tunes for the Undead._ Hmmm...

I popped the CD into the computer. May as well surf the net while I make fun of this Spuffy CD he made. What the Hell was a Spuffy anyhow? Maybe he meant _spiffy_. Which likely meant Spike-type music since it was for the undead. I was totally prepared to have my ears accosted by the Sex Pistols or some equally obnoxious noise.

Pretty guitar. Not crunchy.

_I would have given you all of my heart_

_But there is someone who tore it apart_

_And he's taken almost all that I have_

_But if you want I'll try to love again..._

Know how that feels. Angel pretty much tapped my heart dry and then raped my soul while he was at it. I know, it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it that he had this creepy curse attached to him that made him go all Nosferatu the second he got a happy. Great way for a girl to celebrate her first time with her first love. It still gives me the willies to even think about it. Spike wouldn't have lost his soul. Hell, he didn't even need one to love me. His demon loved me just as much as the man. Too bad I was too stupid to see that until he was gone. Wait. Not gone. Note to self: still mad about that whole not gone and not telling me thing.

_Baby, I'll try to love again but I know..._

_The First Cut is the Deepest_

_Baby, I know..._

_The First Cut is the Deepest..._

Sing it, sister. The first cut _is_ the deepest. And it sure does take a long time to heal. Even then, the scars last for a lifetime. Or, in my case, a couple of lifetimes. Not like they disappeared after I returned from the grave.

_When it comes to being lucky he's cursed_

_When it comes to loving me he's worst..._

Cursed. Sometimes I feel cursed. Maybe just jaded. Angel never did figure out how to love me. He left. They all leave.

_When it comes to being loved he's first..._

Doesn't mean that he's best, though, does it? When I told him I was cookie dough and that I wasn't done, I wasn't hedging. I was telling the truth. Of course, the whole truth is that I'm the kind of girl who likes her cookies pretty gooey. And I've even been known to eat the dough straight from the plastic tube without even bothering to cut it up and stick it in the oven.

Spike likes his cookie dough from the tube, too. I'd caught him and Dawn watching _Shadow of the Vampire_ and eating the stuff with their fingers. They were making fun of John Malkovich and giggling like a couple of three year-olds. I wanted to giggle, too. I wanted raw cookie dough and silly vampire movies and giggles. But I'm fucked up, remember? Slayer here. Brought back all wrong. So, instead I went off on them about how unsanitary it was to be licking their fingers and then putting them back into the tube for more dough and hello! What about the fact that they could get botchulism and probably another dozen isms I don't know about?

I ruined their fun night. Spike held up a fingerful of cookie dough. And yes. It was _that_ finger. More laughter from Dawn. More yelling from me. Slamming doors, swearing... and Dawn cried herself to sleep again. I cried myself to sleep, too. God, I'm such a bitch sometimes.

_I still want you by my side_

_Just to help me dry the tears that I cried_

He never left me. Not even when I kicked him. Punched him. Told him I'd never love him. No wonder he didn't believe me when I finally did. He has no idea how much that hurt. I tell him I love him and I get a big, fat 'no you don't but thanks for saying it' in return.

Okay. Okay. He _does_ know how much it hurts. See? I've grown. I've matured. I'm all about the introspection. I hurt him over and over. Guess I deserved that little 'fuck off' at the end. But _this_? This letting me think that he was gone forever? I don't get that at all. That's something Angel would do. Spike, he's all about the want, take, have. What the Hell, you know? Has being around Angel made him go all... all... poufter on me? Did I even say that right?

You know, I'm not the smartest girl at times. That shouldn't come as a surprise. I still have no idea how to use shirty. And I've tried many times. Andrew and Dawn, they say little things that Spike would say. Like bollocks. Andrew was trying to sew a button on his shirt last week. He sucks at threading needles. I can totally relate. He finally got pissed and threw it all down and muttered "Bollocks this!" I cried for four hours after he said that. Dawn likes to say bloody. Bloody hell. It just doesn't sound right when it's not him saying it. _Bloody_. Leave it to the British to give a vampire a word that says it all.

_'Cause I'm sure gonna give you a try_

_And if you want I'll try to love again._

_Baby, I'll try to love again but I know..._

Why didn't I try harder? Why didn't I tell him the moment I knew? And I did know. I knew long before I could even put it into words. I knew when I told Tara that I let Spike... do things to me. I knew that I loved him. And I was so scared that I begged and begged for her to tell me that something was wrong with me. But there wasn't. Not a thing. So, what did I do? Well, the only thing I could do. Push him away with all my might.

_The First Cut is the Deepest_

_Baby I know_

_The First Cut is the Deepest..._

He told me that we always hurt the ones we love. I am _so_ eating crow right now. And it's definately cold. Worlds of euw. Oh, God. Maybe it _is _too late! What if he's moved on? What if there's someone else? What if he doesn't love me anymore?

Call. Don't call. Call. Don't call.

I've got the phone in my hand. I still remember Angel's number. I'm curious. What would he say if I asked him about Spike? Would he tell me the truth? Or would he lie to me? Just push the buttons, Buffy. Now breathe. Ask him about the weather. Pretend you don't know he ever came to Italy. Don't even mention Spike. Play it cool. Don't let on that you--

"This is Angel," he says in his impassive way. I freeze. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

I hang up.

_When it comes to being lucky he's cursed._

What was I supposed to say: Listen up, you broody bastard! I know that the undead love of my life is there, so you better put him on or I'll take the next flight to LA and stake you without even blinking? Yeah. I could see that one going over like a lead balloon.

_When it comes to loving me he's worst._

Oh, wait. I know! Angel, remember how I told you I was cookie dough? I'm done. But you don't even eat, so pour your grand-childe a glass of milk and hand me over. No. That is _so_ not of the good.

_When it comes to being loved he's first._

Angel, when I fell in love with you I was only 16. And as wonderful as it was at the time, I realize something very important now. I never truly fell. Not all the way. I loved you. But, to be in love means to be able to hate with just as much passion. And I really, really hate Spike. That could work. Couldn't it?

Ugh. Andrew's home.

"Andrew, what's a Spuffy?" I ask. He just stopped dead in his tracks. And I think he's blushing. Big time.

"Is that some sort of geek slang?" I persist. Not that I really care, but the way he's being all avoidy with his eyes is telling me that it's probably something I can use to embarrass him at a future date.

He's stammering. And now he's taking it out of the computer. Hey! I was listening to that!!!

"Hey! I was listening to that!" I pout.

"Uh, just how much have you heard?" He's acting like he's got the collywobbles.

"All of it," I lie.

"Oh, Gosh. I can explain, Buffy. I just, oh boy..."

He's sitting on the couch now turning the CD over and over in his guilty little hands. He tells me that it's a CD he made after watching some of the footage he took of me and Spike. What footage? I thought I made him destroy those stupid tapes he was making.

"Yeah, about that..." He looks appropriately apologetic. As he well should!

"I want to see it," I tell him quietly. He nods and scampers off to his room to find this contraband tape.

I pick up the CD and stick it in the desk drawer under a pile of papers. Now I really do want to know what's on it. Andrew sticks the little tape into some sort of adapter so that it will play in the VCR. And then I hear someone gasp. Shit! It's me.

I remember this. It's after I came back to the house. After the first battle with the Potentials in tow. How did Andrew get this without me knowing? God, look at me. I couldn't even give him the crumb he needed then! Andrew's saying something to me. And I really can't hear him because I'm straining to hear the images of me and Spike on the TV. And someone is crying, making it damn near impossible. That someone is me.

"So, I made the CD and just thought that _Spuffy_ was a cute way to combine the names Spike and Buffy. I didn't mean to upset you, Buffy. Buffy? Buffy?"

His hand is on back and for some strange reason, I don't shrug him away. He's my only link to Spike.

"He doesn't love me anymore, does he?" I managed to ask between sobs.

"What?"

"That's why he left without me. He doesn't love me." I hear the voice, but it sounds too small to be my own.

"Is that what you think, Buffy?" Andrew sounds surprised that I would draw that conclusion. Isn't he supposed to be smart or something? Of course that's what I think. If he still loved me, he wouldn't have left.

Andrew's crying now, too. He's carrying on about how he should have called me on my cell. And how he should have made them stay. Or maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.

"What?! No!" I tell him forcefully. I grab his hand and I can feel myself crushing his fingers together. If I don't stop squeezing, I'm going to break his bones. I drop his hand quickly and he thanks me for not breaking his hand.

"I-I don't know what to do," I admit. I feel hopeless.

Andrew is staring at me. I can tell that he's a little unsure of what he should do. It's not like I've ever had a real conversation with him before this. I'm really not a very nice person, am I?

"Are you ask--"

"I'm asking," I assure him. He nods and takes a deep breath.

"He's working for Angel at Wolfram and Hart. Go pack your bag and I'll call the airport."

I don't know what I'm going to say when I get there, but I'll have about thirteen hours to figure it out.

_FINITO_


End file.
